


Road to Rio

by nerdesque (orphan_account)



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2016-08-08
Packaged: 2018-07-11 07:58:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7039678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/nerdesque
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The road to Rio isn’t quite as smooth as they would hope. A collection of one-shots.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. O'Solo

Hope had tried to brush it off. She really had. But when the Japanese midfielder elbowed Kelley in the diaphragm for the fourth time that night, she felt her blood boil. Hope watched as the defender caught air and clutched her chest as if she’d been shot. Kelley hit the turf once again with a solid thud. Hope closed her eyes, clenched her fists, prayed to every god in existence that Kelley would be alright.

_Get up._

_Get up._

Hope’s mind raced. She watched as Kelley got to her knees and cover her face with her hands for what must have been the fourth time that night. Only this time she didn’t get up. Hope saw the rise and fall of her chest under the blinding lights of the stadium. Her throat closed. The same body that she’d seen become so used to seeing beneath white sheets in the early morning sunlight seemed twisted, bruised. Hurt. Becky and Tobin put supporting hands on Kelley’s hunched back, but it was to no avail. Down she stayed. Hope saw Kelley take a deep breath. Kelley lifted her head. Turned to Hope. Even twenty feet away, Hope could see the tears threatening to spill over. In that moment, Hope’s heartstrings snapped all at once. She set her jaw and jogged over to Kelley’s body. The referee had joined the cluster of players surrounding Kelley. Hope bent down to face Kelley. Her stray hairs were plastered to her sweaty forehead and her face was red with a concoction of pain, anger, and exhaustion. Hope rested her gloved hand on Kelley’s neck.

“You okay?” Hope asked. She mentally kicked herself. What a dumb question. Kelley nodded sharply, swallowing and bracing her head against her crossed arms.

“Yeah, no, you’re not.” Hope sighed. She looked up at Tobin and Becky, both with the same look of concern. Hope bit the inside of her mouth and shook her head. Tobin looked down and pushed her hair out of her face. Becky sighed and shook her head. Hope turned to the bench where Jill was standing, arms crossed, observing the scene. She looked away. Whether she liked it or not, this could determine Kelley’s place on the roster for the Olympics.

“Hey, if you need to go, just say the word. Just… Don’t push yourself, yeah?” Kelley looked up at her and nodded.

“I’ll be fine. I just...need a minute.” Kelley’s voice sounded hoarse from the exertion and excruciating pain. Hope nodded back at her, knowing full well that _a minute_ was forever in soccer time. It was do or die time, and secretly, very secretly, Kelley knew that. Kelley clenched her fists, held her arm up, asking Hope for help. Hope smiled and grabbed her hand. The audience erupted in cheers as Kelley rose to her feet. Hope placed a hand on the small of her back to steady her.

“Careful, now.” Kelley warned. Hope shook her head.

“I don’t care what they think. I need you to be okay.” Hope brushed the turf off Kelley’s cheek. The lights seemed to dim. The crowd fell silent. All that mattered to Hope was right in front of her. It was Kelley. It was always Kelley.

Kelley turned to Hope.

“I will be. Promise.” Kelley smiled again, and it was as if that smile was all Hope needed to be reassured. Hope watched, mesmerized as Kelley jogged away to her place. Hope returned to her place in goal, content with watching the referee give a yellow card to the Japanese player. Hope looked to the night sky, silently thanking karma for getting this one thing exactly right. 


	2. Klingensonn, Klingenmoe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gals go back to camp, and Meghan is torn between old flames and new.

Morgan’s head rested firmly on Meghan’s shoulder for the bus ride to the field. Her giant headphones covered the crown of her head and engulfed her ears. Meghan smiled down at the sleeping girl and wondered what she was listening to. Country, probably. Meghan grimaced. Not her favorite. But Moe loved it, and that was all the justification necessary to give it a try. She pretended to like it, if only for Morgan’s sake. She smiled every time a stupid Tim McGraw song came on the radio because she was reminded how much Morgan liked it. She’d grown attached to Morgan ever since they became teammates with the Dash. They shared a home, a team, a love of macarons, but not much else. Secretly Meghan wondered how they got as far as they did with having so little in common. When Meghan got traded to the Thorns, it was a nasty reminder of how their friendship was so dependent on spending nearly every waking moment with each other. At night, when the only thing keeping her awake was the light of the moon, she missed Morgan. She missed the warmth that she brought to her life. Even wrapped up in blankets with the thermostat cranked up, there was no replacement for Morgan’s sleeping body in her bed. The hole in her heart was too great.

But within weeks, she heard a laugh that sounded too much like Morgan’s across the field. She turned, eyes wide and searching.

Was it her?

Could it be her?

She sighed when she saw that it was only Emily laughing at one of Tobin’s antics. Emily must have caught her staring because she caught her gaze. Smiled and waved. Motioned for her to come over. Meghan looked around, realizing that she was alone. Meghan jogged over and joined Emily and the others. They knew each other from Emily’s brief stint at the National Team, but she only really hung out with the other newbies. She stayed in her lane, a characteristic that Morgan so adamantly lacked. Meghan admired that about Morgan. She was so fearlessly _herself_. She didn’t care what people thought. Compared to Morgan’s carefree, give-no-shits attitude, Emily seemed…

Serious. Humorless. Too caught up in herself. Meghan must have realized her mistake as soon as Emily cracked the first bad pun. Meghan smiled for the first time since the trade, and Emily noticed. They talked. Traded favorite books. Discussed Harry Potter theories. Soon enough they were partnered up for every drill together. Emily was the first player she’d met that could keep up with her work ethic. Not that Morgan was a bad partner. It was just different. What Meghan had mistaken for self-importance was an unparalleled amount of focus and drive caught up in one person. Meghan was impressed with Emily. She played well past her years.

After the first game against the Dash, Emily found Kling leaving by herself and offered her a ride home. Meghan had already been avoiding Morgan out of respect for the way things had ended. She would go home, cry, wake up in the morning. Repeat.

Emily’s offer hung in the air, an olive branch. Or else an excuse to be closer.

At first, Meghan almost refused. She thought this was some ploy to get her to go out drinking or go to a club to cheer her up. Tobin and Dagny had tried that. It just made her feel more alone. But there was something about the light behind Em’s eyes that made Meghan soften. She agreed.

After the night was over, they both knew that they had made a mistake.

Meghan was lonely. She was looking for something, anything, to make her forget about Morgan.

Emily was too good a person to let Meghan keep hurting.

After nursing sizable hangovers, they agreed to stay friends. Emily groaned when she sat at Meghan's breakfast bar, ice pack firmly on her temple. Meghan held her head in her hands, waiting for the coffee to brew. She reviewed that night's activities and asked herself how she could be so stupid. Emily's soft voice broke the silence. 

“You have any-” Meghan had tossed her a bottle of Tylenol. It hit Emily square on the nose, and she made a noise of pain. Despite the throbbing in her head, Meghan laughed.

“Shit, I am so sorry.” Meghan said between fits of laughter. Emily frowned and moved the bag of frozen peas to where the bottle had hit her on the nose. Despite herself, Emily laughed too. That was the beginning of something new.

It had only been four weeks and Emily and Meghan were attached at the hip. Emily had a toothbrush at Meghan’s apartment for the amount she fell asleep on Kling while watching a bad movie. Meghan had a drawer at Emily’s place filled with her favorite t-shirts and sweats because of the amount of times she showed up at Emily’s doorstep crying. Meghan had a knack for finding partners out of the most unlikely girls. She fell in love too easily and with too many people for anything to be lasting. And sleeping on her was a lasting reminder of how happy someone can make you. And how easily they can take it away. The bus rolled to a stop, and Meghan saw Emily stand from her seat and stretch, turning back to catch Meghan’s gaze. Emily smiled and waved, but dropped her hand when she saw Morgan asleep on Meghan’s shoulder. _No, it’s not what you think_ Meghan wanted to shout. But it was a lie. It was exactly what she thought. Emily descended down the stairs. Meghan sighed. She nudged Morgan to wake her up. She woke up slowly, stretching up and looping her arms around Meghan’s neck.

“Five minutes?” Morgan cooed and nuzzled into Meghan’s neck. Meghan felt the butterflies in her stomach bounce against her insides. Meghan shook her head.

“We’re here.” Meghan said tiredly.

“Jeez, okay grumpypants.” Morgan stood and grabbed Meghan’s hand, leading her off the bus. Meghan sighed. What’s a girl to do?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not in love with how I wrote this chapter. A lot of exposition. But I like this pairing! Comment below, tell me who y'all want to end up together.


	3. Preath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After PSG v Tyreso  
> (I was listening to Arctic Monkeys when I wrote this so I kinda felt like how vodka and smoke taste.)

 

She stumbled out of bed, dizzily making her way to the bathroom. She cut on the shower, feeling the cold water rush over her aching body. Christen dragged the bar of cheap hotel soap across her skin. She shuddered at the scratches her nails left on her skin. She smelled like chemical lavender and beer. Cheap. Grimy. She stepped out of the dark-tiled shower and ran a towel through her hair. She wiped the fog away from the mirror and faced herself in the harsh light of day. Mascara stained her cheeks and the dark circles beneath her eyes protruded angrily, a pesky reminder of the little sleep she’d gotten that night. She threw on some spare clothes that she found in one of the drawers, a pair of ratty sweats and a UNC t-shirt. She paused when she saw the baby blue of the college’s logo. Fuck, had she gotten with Kling again? Christen shook her head, searching for any indication that the shirt didn’t belong to her teammate. Christen squinted to look at the number below the lettering. She let out a sigh of relief. However, the number that replaced it was far more alarming.

It wasn’t 4.

It was 98.

Christen looked up again when she heard a groan coming from beneath the sheets of her bed. Her eyes widened. In her bed, lying without a hint of clothing on, was the one and only Tobin Heath. Christen almost went so far as to smack a hand over her mouth to prevent a gasp. Sure, Christen had originally gone over to Sweden to “find herself”, but she didn’t think that she’d fall into bed with the fucker that had forced her hand in the first place. Tobin let out a stream of expletives when she saw the sunlight streaming through the open blinds. Tobin rolled over and clutched Christen’s pillow. Christen stood stark in the middle of the room, waiting for God or even fucking Batman to send her a signal and teleport her out of her own house. No such relief came. Christen decided that there was a conversation that needed to happen, whether she liked it or not.

“Um. Hi.” She said weakly.

“Ugh, what?” Tobin sat up and rubbed her eyes. Once her eyes adjusted to the light, she focused on Christen.

“F-Christen!” Tobin held the sheets up to her chest and every muscle in her body tensed.

“What are you doing here?” Tobin looked around, trying to adjust to her surroundings.

“I… Live here.” Tobin’s eyes widened with realization.

“And you’re in my bed.” Tobin massaged her neck. Fuck. This was bad.

“Did we-”

“Uh huh.” Tobin collapsed backwards onto the bed. Slowly, pieces of the night before starting coming back to her. A challenge. Shots. A pair of piercing green eyes. Fingers grazing her abs. A rise in her voice. An invitation.

The kiss. Oh God, the kiss. Alcohol fueled, desperate, wanting, and exactly right. Tobin glanced at Christen, who was either going to start screaming or crying. Or both. Most likely both. Her bottom lip trembled.  How could she be this stupid? How could she sleep with the one person she’d been so determinedly ignoring for months on end? She replayed that night’s events in her head.

_“What are you even talking about? You’re the prettiest girl in here.” Christen threw back her head and laughed. Tobin grinned at her. The amber liquid in her glass sloshed against her throat as she took another swig._

_“I’m not kidding.” She wasn’t. Christen looked at her, lips slightly parted and glistening from the alcohol._

_“You’re too kind, Heath.” Christen’s heart sang. Tobin shook her head._

_“I’m just being honest.” Tobin bit her lip and broke the gaze._

_“You’re cute.” Christen blurted the words. As soon as they came out, she knew she’d made a mistake. Fuck it. Nothing another round couldn’t fix. One moment of courage, and Christen wasn’t going to let it pass her by. Christen downed the last of her drink and pressed her lips to Tobin’s. At first, she squeezed her eyes shut. Her body tensed. But as soon as Tobin’s hands ghosted her waist, all inhibitions vanished. Maybe it was the adrenaline, maybe it was because the person she was kissing was_ _fucking Tobin Heath_ _, but she couldn’t get enough. They left the seedy pub hand in hand and caught a cab, unable to keep their hands off each other._

“Hey,” Tobin’s voice felt like a knife in Christen’s chest. It was gentle. Too gentle for the events that had occurred mere hours before the Swedish sunrise.

She couldn’t do this. Not the morning after. Not Tobin. Tobin was too good to be both the one night stand and the consoling best friend. They were walking a dangerous line as it was.

“Don’t,” Christen croaked. She smiled and wiped her tears away.

“I’m a big girl. I can handle it.” Christen shrugged and shot an unconvincing smile at Tobin. Tobin looked at her with a look of pity and guilt. Christen felt cheap. Like an empty bottle of vodka that white boy wasted teenagers used to play spin the bottle. She felt used. And it wasn’t the fault of the naked girl in her bed.


	4. Talex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Portland vs. Orlando

Alex gritted her teeth and bent down to untie her laces. She ripped at the cleats, crushing them in the harsh grip of her hands. She didn’t even stop to acknowledge the tens of thousands of fans screaming her name. She feared that if she had to stay on that pitch any longer, she’d lose her mind. It had only been three weeks since she and Servando had decided to take a break. Alex had worked her ass off, and Serv didn’t even recognize it. She’d uprooted her life, her career, her plans just to be closer to him. To try to cultivate some semblance of balance in their crazy busy lives. And what did he do? Try and sleep with her sister. She shook her head and chuckled in disbelief as she stormed through the tunnel out of the stadium. The sounds of the crowd dulled as she neared closer and closer to the end of the tunnel. Her breaths quickened and her vision blurred. She took a deep breath in, trying to calm the feeling of flooded lungs and a crushed heart. Alex rounded the corner, not to the locker rooms, but to the gear staff conference room. They’d all gone home for the night after they’d transported the extra gear during halftime. She grinned halfheartedly at the guard on his stool in front of the corridor. She heard jogging footsteps behind her, growing closer and closer. She didn’t take a look to see who it was, instead picking up pace and trying to find the abandoned room. She ran down the hallway, keeping her eyes open for an unassuming door marked Gear Staff. She stumbled on it near the end of the hall. She yanked the door open and slammed it shut behind her. She pushed in the metal divot in the handle to lock it. Alex rested her forehead against the cool wood of the door. She laid her palms flat against it and let out a shaky breath. She tried to hold in the tears. She told herself to suck it up, keep in in, wait until she got to the car where she could be in peace. That it would be over soon. That she was okay. That none of it mattered anyway. But her body didn’t buy the bullshit her mind sold, and the floodgates opened. She cried. The sobs wracked her body so hard that she couldn’t stand, instead sinking to her knees and pounding on the door with a closed fist. Her battered cleats fell to the ground. She covered her mouth to block the dying animal noises coming from her mouth. After a few minutes, she felt a soft knocking at the door. 

“Hey, Lex. You okay?” An innocent, teddy-bear soft voice echoed from the other side of the door. It had to be Tobin. Nobody else would think to check on her here. 

“Yeah, I’m f-fine.” Alex choked. Tobin sighed. 

“Alex…” Tobin trailed off. 

“I’m fine, Tobs!” Silent static filled the air. 

“Please let me in.” Tobin’s voice was soft. Alex lifted her head and sniffed. Tobin wasn’t one for begging. Hell, she wasn’t one for asking. Normally when Alex had a meltdown, or at least a series of troubling emotions, Tobin would wrap her up in blankets and kiss her forehead until she calmed down enough to talk. Tobin didn’t ask for permission. She didn’t need to. There was an unspoken bond between the two players, a type of oath so special and secret that even they didn’t know what it was. 

That was, of course, before Servando. Then everything changed. When Alex cried, it was secret. Shameful. She’d always be on the phone with him while he tried his best to calm her down. Tobin lied in her bed facing the window, fighting the urge to climb into bed with Alex and hold her until she fell asleep in her arms. Tobin fought the hot tears clouding her vision. She gulped, listening to Alex’s shaky breaths and Servando’s hushed voice through the phone. She saw behind Alex’s eyes that Servando wasn’t a consoler. He was analytic. His personality off the pitch wasn’t that different from on it. His approach to life was the same as his approach to the game. There was always a play to be made, a person to be beaten, an opponent to crush. There was a strategy until the very last minute, when your back’s against the wall. He was a black-and-white person. He had to put parts of his life into little boxes so that they’d make sense to him. Alex, on the other hand, was grey. She didn’t give a damn about labels. She saw things as they were, a patchwork of different experiences and expressions. She didn’t mind not having things in boxes. She never fit into them anyways. It was too boring for her. She was a messy person, but nothing was more beautiful. Tobin had wished that Servando had seen that. Of course, she’d wanted to kill him for hurting her. In her lungs, in the pit of her heart, it burned. It took Tobin all she had to not go over and make him pay for hurting Alex. What kind of nerve did he have? Alex was the best thing that had ever happened to him. His ugly ass didn’t deserve her in the first place. She was never really happy when she was with him. Never satisfied. 

Tobin heard the soft click of the door unlocking. Tobin wasted no time. She yanked the door open, sliding across the floor to where Alex was a shuddering, sobbing heap. Tobin’s eyes welled up in tears. 

“Alex…” Tobin trailed off and wrapped an arm around Alex’s waist as she lay prostrate on the floor. Alex shook her head and sobbed. 

“Wh-why did h-he do it?” Alex asked, her breath ragged.

“He’s an ass, Lex. He doesn’t deserve you.” Alex covered her mouth. Tobin kicked the door closed. The two players were surrounded by darkness.

“C’mere.” Tobin held her arms open, and Alex didn’t hesitate before diving in. Alex wrapped her arms around Tobin’s broad shoulders and rested her head in the crook of Tobin’s neck. Tobin looped her arms around Alex’s waist, one settling on the back of Alex’s neck, the other resting on Alex’s hip, rubbing her thumb in circles. Tobin squeezed her eyes shut. It hurt seeing the person she loved most in pain. She kissed the crown of Alex’s head.

“It’s gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay, yeah? I’m right here.” Tobin said reverently into Alex’s ear. Alex hiccuped and nodded.

“Thank you, Toby. I love you.” Tobin sucked in a breath. Those words always had a detrimental effect on her. She’d heard it in eight countries, dozens of hotels, at all hours of the night. And not once did Alex mean it in the way that Tobin wanted her to. 


	5. Klingensonn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emily finds out she’s an alternate. Kling knows how it feels.

Emily paced around her apartment, rubbing her hands together. She had been walking around the room for an hour now, walking from one wall to the other. One foot in front of the other. Step by step. She stopped abruptly when she heard a knock at the door. She broke her iron concentration to pad to the front of her apartment. She peeked through the peephole to see none other than Meghan Klingenberg bouncing up and down with a huge shit-eating grin plastered on her face. Emily’s lungs gave out and she let out a slight chuckle. 

“Hey short stuff! You gonna let me in or what?” Emily looked down and smiled to herself. That little shit. She swiftly unlocked the door and opened it wide. Meghan stood there, all five foot two of her and placed a hand on her hip. Even though she was slight in stature, her personality could fill up a room. Her smile brought light to even the darkest place. And her eyes, God, those eyes…

“I made it.” Meghan said reverently, probably waiting for some reaction on Emily’s part. Emily’s face lit up. 

“Really? I mean, obviously, you’re a shoe-in, but… Holy shit, Kling!” Meghan nodded rapidly and ran towards Emily, leaping into her arms. Emily looped her arms around Meghan’s torso and pulled her close. Meghan buried her head into Emily’s neck.

“I’m going to Rio.” Meghan murmured into Emily’s hair. Emily spun a giggling Meghan around in her arms until she felt tired. Emily put her back down on the ground and bent down so as to not break the embrace. Meghan pulled away slightly, her hands cupping Emily’s face. 

“And I can’t wait to have you right next to me on the best backline in the world.” Meghan snubbed Emily’s nose with the tip of her finger. Emily wrinkled her freckled nose and giggled. Meghan held an easy smile on her face. Emily cocked her head.

“How can you be so sure I made it?” Emily’s smile fell from her face and balled the fabric of Meghan’s sweatshirt in her hands. Meghan looked up at Emily through her eyelashes. Meghan looked away and licked her lips. 

“I can’t. But, hey, if anyone’s got the talent, skill, and chemistry,” Emily’s heart fluttered at that last word.

“It’s you.” Emily’s smile returned to her face, and Meghan’s matched.

“Yeah, well, I hope Jill thinks so.” Emily all but whispered. Meghan bit her lip and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Emily’s grip on Meghan’s waist tightened. 

_ This isn’t happening.  _ Emily thought to herself.

_ This is ridiculous.  _ Emily’s eyes fluttered shut. 

_ Ridiculous.  _ Meghan melted into Emily’s arms.

_ Truth.  _ Meghan’s fingers intertwined in Emily’s hair, bringing her closer to what they’d both been longing for. Emily could feel Meghan’s hot breath on her face. 

Closer, Closer.

Until-

_ Ring Ring _

Emily let out a miniscule breath, still heavy enough for Meghan to notice and let go. Emily’s skin screamed out for Meghan’s touch. She missed the heat of Meghan’s body pressed against hers. Emily’s cheeks turned a ruddy pink. 

“You gonna get that, or…” Meghan scratched the back of her head and fixed her eyes on the floor.

“Um. Y-yeah.” Emily fumbled with her phone, finally unlocking it by swiping angrily. 

“Hello?” Emily tried not to let her true emotions show through the phone.

“You sound pleased to hear from me.” Jill said humorously. Emily snapped to attention.

“Oh! Hi, Coach.” Meghan looked at Emily, at a total loss of words.

“I’m calling to tell you that you’re going to Rio as an alternate. I’m sure this isn’t the news you were hoping for, but you are playing a vital role as…” Jill’s voice became more and more distant through the phone as Emily felt hot tears welling in her eyes. Emily covered her mouth with the back of her hand to silence the sobs coming out. Emily met Meghan’s eyes and immediately regretted it. Meghan’s face softened and her normally cheerful expression fell from her face. The corners of her mouth curled into a frown. All she saw in those gorgeous eyes was pity. Emily’s brow furrowed, and she tore her eyes away from Meghan’s gaze.

“I’d like you to see this as an opportunity, not a punishment. You’re a tremendously talented player, Emily. This was a difficult call to make. Do you understand?” 

“Yes, Coach.” Emily said in a hushed tone.

“Good. I’ll see you soon.” 

_ Click. _

The line went dead. 

Emily put her phone down with more force than was necessary. She held her head in her hands and rested her elbows on the kitchen counter, trying not to let the tears spill out. 

“I’m sorry.” Meghan said softly, almost  _ too _ softly. Emily shook her head and forced a smile.

“It’s alright. Maybe next time.” Emily shrugged and let out a shaky breath. Emily tried to walk past Meghan towards the couch, but Meghan’s hand wrapped around Emily’s bicep and stopped her in her tracks.

“Please don’t shut me out again.” Meghan murmured into Emily’s shoulder. Emily stiffened. Meghan’s grip tightened.

“Please, Em.” Emily whimpered slightly and squeezed her eyes shut. Meghan’s hand traveled down Emily’s arm and laced Emily’s fingers with her own. Emily’s breathing hitched. She squeezed Meghan’s hand and pulled her closer to the couch. Meghan sat down and looked up at Emily, who was still standing before her. Tear marks stained her cheeks and her eyes were red. Emily used her sleeve to wipe away the tears. Meghan tugged on Emily’s hand and motioned for her to sit down next to her. Emily collapsed onto the couch and fell into Meghan. She sniffed and buried her head in Meghan’s chest. Meghan braced her hand on the back of Emily’s head and traced circles with her thumb. Emily whimpered and burrowed deeper. There was something about Meghan’s smell that immediately calmed her. Laundry detergent. Dog hair. She smelled like home.

She  _ felt _ like home, too, and maybe that’s what really got her. She always knew that she was safe with Meghan. No matter how fucked up the situation, no matter how bad things got, she knew that Meghan would be there for her. Meghan had her back. She was stable and kind,  generous and gentle, old and young all rolled into one. Oh, and how she loved her. 

“I’m sorry.” Meghan whispered. She stroked Emily’s hair gently. 

“It’s okay.” Emily sighed into Meghan’s chest. Meghan traced patterns absentmindedly on Emily’s back.

“Is this how it felt?” Emily asked suddenly.

“Hm?” Meghan came out of her reverie.

“Did it feel this shitty?” Meghan chuckled quietly.

“Yeah. I mean, I was grateful to be there. But it stung. When I got the call, I straight up cried for a week. Locked myself in my room. Didn’t eat. Nothing seemed to matter to me. But then I stopped wallowing and started to work even harder than before. I got stronger, faster, fitter. And then when the World Cup rolled around… I was ready.” Meghan bent down to Emily’s ear.

“And I proved everyone wrong.” Meghan kissed the side of Emily’s head and stroked her hair. 

“I don’t know how many people you’d have to prove wrong. You’re the best in the world.” Emily said. Meghan snorted.

“Yeah, try telling that to everyone on Twitter. They hate me.” Emily sat up and looked at Meghan, not bothering to smooth her flyaways.

“That’s not true.”

“Uh, yeah, honey, it is,” Meghan smoothed her short hair back.

“It’s whatever, though. I try not to let it get to me.” Meghan shrugged. Emily furrowed her brow.

“How could anybody hate you? You’re kind, and you’re funny, you’re brilliant, you’re the best in the world. Any idiot could see that.” Meghan folded her hands in her lap and looked down, a humble smile on her face. 

“Hey,” Emily sidled closer to Meghan, one hand atop Meghan’s folded ones, the other lying across her firm shoulders. Meghan didn’t meet her gaze.

“Look at me, Meg,” Emily pleaded softly. Meghan looked up, her eyes distant. They didn’t lose their glimmer, not even in the dim light of the parlor. 

“Did you mean all that?” Meghan knit her brow and locked eyes with Emily, blue meeting green.

“Every word.” Meghan smiled again, and all seemed right with the world. 

All it took was Emily kissing her to prove it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one day?? Whaaaaat?  
> Not gonna lie to y'all, I cried a few times writing this. Maybe it's in poor taste writing about the roster release so soon after it happened (like 10 hours after it happened) but any shitty event is fodder for my one-shots! As always, comments and criticism are welcome. It's the only way I can get better!  
> Hugs and kisses,  
> nerdesque


	6. Tobin Heath/Christine Sinclair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Thorns vs. Spirit. Yeah, that game.  
> Adding Sinc to this series because I just adore her and she doesn't get nearly enough love.

Tobin could feel the blood pumping through every vein. She rolled back her shoulders, feeling the muscles ripple under her skin, every nerve standing on end. She set her jaw and fixed her eyes on the ground. She looked at the bench, a pensive Mark standing, feet hip width apart. Sinc just held her head in her hands. Nadine was muttering German curses under her breath, pacing back and forth behind the bench. Tobin jogged over to Mark.

“You played good, Tobs,” Tobin pursed her lips and gave a terse nod. She started to make her way over to the bench. She looked at Christine, disappointment in her eyes. Tobin felt the captain’s armband tighten around her bicep. She tugged it off and handed it to Mark wordlessly. She let out a shaky breath. Tobin wasn’t an emotional person. The closest she got to tears was when she had to comfort Press after a particularly moving ASPCA commercial. But in that moment? With the lights shining down and the smell of freshly cut grass and a red card to her name? This wasn’t Tobin. This wasn’t the person who let things roll off her back, who let things go. She passed Christine without saying a word, knowing that the real captain would only pity her. Tobin chuckled to herself sourly. Who the hell was Tobin to put that armband on? She wasn’t their leader. Their leader was sitting on the sidelines, and everyone, Tobin included, was lost without her. And secretly, very secretly, Sinc knew it. That was probably while she clasped Mark on the shoulder and whispered that she’d be going inside. Mark turned to her and nodded gently. Christine jogged up the incline and passed through the gates to the locker room. She heard muted grunts and the sound of a locker being kicked. Christine’s eyes widened. She charged into the room, seeing a clearly shaken Tobin kicking the lockers in.

“Stupid... Stupid… Fucking…” Tobin grit her teeth and winced at each strike she landed on her locker.

“Tobin, what the hell!” Sinc yelled, wrapping an arm around Tobin’s waist and pulling her away from the lockers. Tobin pushed against Christine’s waist in protest.

“Sinc, go away!” Tobin said thickly, her voice rough.

“Tobin, this isn’t you.” Christine grit her teeth and clung to Tobin, balling her jersey in her hands to get a better grip on her.

“Just let me go!” Tobin struggled against Sinc.

Christine refused and gripped at Tobin’s lithe frame.

“Tobin, come on, get ahold of yourself.” Tobin could only protest so much after the exhaustion setting in from the unrelenting game. Tobin’s breathing slowed. She looked at the damage-- her cleats were now a scuffed mess, the locker had an angry dent from the abuse Tobin had inflicted. Tobin let out a heavy sigh, out of both the shame and humiliation from her actions. This wasn’t her. This wasn’t Tobin. Tobin dropped her chin and covered her face with her hands. Sinc’s grip on Tobin softened. Tobin took in a shaky breath and turned to face Christine.

“I’m sorry.” Tobin said, her eyes clouded with tears. Tobin clenched her jaw and backed out of Christine’s reach, sitting in the nearest fold out chair. She hung her head in defeat, clasping her hands together and resting her chin atop them. Christine tilted her head up towards the ceiling and let out a breath. She’d been on the same team as Tobin for three years, and it still felt like they hardly knew each other. Christine wasn’t a certain Alex Morgan. Tobin had lost a partner on the pitch, and it was hurting her in ways she couldn’t even imagine. Christine felt the loss, too, but only as a teammate. She hadn’t lost her best friend. Probably because she didn’t really have one. Christine paused to look at Tobin. Her hair was a mess. Her body was bruised and worn. Her uniform was wrinkled from all the pushing and pulling from the other players. The elastic of the armband left a small red indent, barely noticeable, on her upper arm.

This wasn’t Tobin.

Christine shook her head and sat down next to her. They sat in silence for a long stretch of time, the whistles and cheers from the game outside the door were the only sounds filling the room. Even tucked away from prying eyes, they were still far from the heat of the game. Sinc bit the inside of her lip. She wasn’t one for words. She wasn’t Abby, giving rah-rah speeches and tripping over her words, never seeming to find the right ones, nevertheless finding that her teammates understand what she means. Christine led by example. She left it all out on the pitch. She didn’t carry anything back into the locker room. Christine didn’t explain her actions. Her actions spoke for themselves. But what did Tobin’s actions say? Tobin had played her heart out, and she left a little more than a game on the pitch. She left her honor. She left her integrity, her pride, and her humility. And it was the most embarrassing moment of her life.

“Do you know what I said to the referee that got me fined back in 2012?” Christine asked suddenly. Tobin looked up, her brow knit.

“Uh. No?” Tobin shook her head, thoroughly surprised and perplexed. Christine smiled.

“I called her, and I quote, ‘a smug, self-serving fuckwad that couldn’t tell her ass from her face’.”

Tobin burst out laughing, covering her mouth with the back of her hand. Christine chuckled. It was good to see Tobin laugh. The world was better with a smiling Tobin Heath.

“Yeah, I could see how that could get you suspended.” Tobin smoothed her hair back and leaned against the back of the chair. Her laughter died down. She cleared her throat.

“Sinc, I fucked up.” Tobin shook her head.

“I know,” Christine said. Christine angled her body towards Tobin.

“But one fuck up does not a player make. That’s, like, a Canadian proverb.” Christine pontified. Tobin smiled and looked at Christine. Christine wrapped an arm around Tobin’s broad shoulders and pulled her close.

“It’s gonna be okay.” Tobin rested her head against Christine’s shoulder.

“How? I mean, you saw what happened. I don’t think I’m ready for the media firestorm that’s about to ensue.” Tobin pulled away and rubbed her brow.

“How the hell do you do this, Sinc?” Tobin shook her head in disbelief. Christine sucked in a breath.

“I don’t, really. I’ve never been talkative. I internalize it and move on. I just leave it out on the pitch, and I’d suggest that you do the same. Tonight is your past. What happened happened, we can’t deny that. We have to keep moving. That’s the only way we survive in this world. Keep moving forward and pretend like nothing’s wrong.” Christine shook her head, closed her eyes, and rested her head against the cinderblock wall. Tobin gulped, crestfallen.

“Is that what you do?” Tobin asked. Christine snapped her eyes open.

“Huh?” Christine asked.

“Is that what you do? Pretend like nothing’s wrong?” Tobin looked at Christine with a dangerous concoction of curiosity and worry. Christine blinked slowly.

“I think so,” She said quietly.

“But it doesn’t make it any less painful. I’ve made a lot of mistakes, Tobin. A lot. I’ve done things I’m not proud of, I’ve said things I didn’t mean, I’ve hurt people. All while wearing the armband. It’s a special kind of pain, knowing that you’re the one that your team turns to, only to fuck it all up. It’s shame and it’s humiliation and it’s anguish. It bites. It really, truly does.”

“You can say that again.” Tobin muttered. The realization dawned on Christine a moment too late.

“No, Tobs, I didn’t mean-” Tobin held up a hand to cut her off.

“I know. But it doesn’t make it any less true.” Christine’s heart sank.

“I’m sorry.” The apology hung in the air. Tobin buried her head in her hands. Her lip quivered, her body starting to shake.

“I fucked up.” Tobin could barely choke out the words before she broke down completely.

“No, no, nononono Tobin, hey, Tobin,” Christine sank to the ground and kneeled before Tobin. She clasped Tobin’s face between her hands and brushed the hair out of her face. Her face was a ruddy pink and stained with tear marks. Christine used the sleeve of her jacket to wipe away the tears.

“I’m sorry. I let the team down. We’re going to lose this game because of me.” Tobin squeezed her eyes shut and inhaled sharply. Christine was at a loss for words.

“If we lose this game, it’s sure as shit not going to be because of you. I can promise you that much. Do you trust your teammates?” Sinc peered up at Tobin. Tobin nodded.

“Yeah.” She said. Christine smiled.

“They’ll make it through. They always do. Those ten players on the pitch just watched their captain get sent off. You don’t think they’re at least a little fired up?” Tobin chuckled.

“I’m not their captain. I never was.” Tobin risked meeting Christine’s eyes.

“Hey, man. Our team didn’t look to me when there was a set piece. They didn’t look to me when they were fouled. I wasn’t the one going up to the ref and challenging every bad call he made. That was all you. You are their captain.” Christine jabbed a finger at Tobin. Tobin pulled away and rested her hands on her thighs. Her face felt puffy from the crying and her body ached. She could feel hiccups bubbling up into her throat and she felt goosebumps erupt on her skin because of the cold locker room.

“You ready to go back out there?” Christine asked. Tobin smiled.

“Let’s do it.” Christine stood and offered her hand to Tobin. Tobin took it and got back to her feet. Tobin pulled Sinc’s hand towards her and brought her into a hug. Christine made a small ‘oomph’ noise upon impact, causing Tobin to laugh quietly.

“Thanks, Sinc. For everything.” Tobin murmured into her shoulder. Christine squeezed Tobin’s waist and rubbed the small of her back.

“Anytime, Captain.”


End file.
